


wayward

by goodmorningrose



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys In Love, Feelings and stuff, M/M, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, croissants are illusions, enjoy your johnten on the way out, i wrote this in half an hour idk enjoy i guess, idk this is the first fic ive ever written let me live, it isnt that heavy really, johnten, there is no kissing i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 07:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningrose/pseuds/goodmorningrose
Summary: a very short soulmates one shot within a universe that I'm not going to get in into and with soulmate rules that I won't get into. Boys have feelings. Boys are soulmates. Boys are bad at love.





	wayward

**Author's Note:**

> a very short soulmates one shot within a universe that I'm not going to get in into and with soulmate rules that I won't get into. Boys have feelings. Boys are soulmates. Boys are bad at love.

The sea isn’t blue.  
Wind licks across his back, exposes parts of slight tanned skin, his vertebrae you can count from underneath the purple silk of his shirt. The sun sinks lazily back behind the horizon as she does every night and will do every night again. There is no one in sight, no one but the seagulls hovering above him as if waiting, as if preying, as if hunting.

The sea isn’t blue. No, it isn’t. And it isn’t turquoise as his mother might describe it, there is nothing redeeming about the black hole that reaches out toward infinity ahead of him. There is nothing forgiving as the white foam engulfs leather boots.

The sea has no care for brand names or persona, there is nothing there but a gentle push and pull, towards the sun, bleeding into the clouds.

Johnny breathes deep, glances at the waves once more and then turns around, crushes razor clam shells under the heels of his boots. That should teach her to mess with him. To deceive him. He just wanted to run away, but now he’s here, under the crushing weight of tiny town and smaller people. Where it smells of salt and fish and his hair is constantly tousled.

He will find solace in his hotel room, where the buzzing of the minibar sounds like an orchestra and the fan blowing away is the only choir he ever wants to hear again.

-

From the outside the café looks like any other.

There are vines climbing across the entryway, small buds where flowers will bloom someday. In the front stand empty folding chairs pushed into round wooden tables.

It smells like freshly baked bread and coffee grounds as he reads the white words on the chalkboard, written in a pretty calligraphy that could be straight off Pinterest.

  
_StrawBerries are free with French Toast._  
_Our hot chocolates are sweet but you are sweeter._  
_Love and Croissants are illusions, come have a taste inside!_

  
Ah, there it is. That word again. LOVE. He lets it roll around his mouth, leaves it on the tip of his tongue, tastes it, he doesn’t know if its bitter or sweet, has never had the palette for wine or chocolate or red meat.

Gulp. He swallows it down, feels it nestle just behind his ribs, feels the pressure on his lungs.

No, the café doesn’t look threatening from the outside, but he knows what he will find when he enters. He knows that there won’t be any going back after this. He can feel the ring around his finger buzz, it has been buzzing since he entered the town, but now it almost seems to be pulling him along. Saying; “Hey! We need to go, this is it! No more running away.”

As Johnny enters café ‘La Vie’ the bell connected to the door rings. He doesn’t dare look up, but there aren’t many people in the café, or they just aren’t very talkative. Either way he stalks towards a table, sits down in a hurry. The salt and pepper shakers rumble

They must know by now, right? They must. They must be able to feel the same as Johnny feels, the glowing band around their own ring finger must be Buzzing by now.

It feels like his entire body is electrified, there is nothing that can calm him, is this what love is supposed to feel like? Is this the feeling of finding your other half, your soulmate? Johnny had always imagined peace, had listened to how his friends had felt when they found each other. “It’s soft, like sinking a silver spoon into chocolate mousse, or like caramel, yeah, it’s like that.”

But he doesn’t feel it, doesn’t feel soft. He feels jittery and nervous and terrified, he’s fucking terrified. If this is love then it is terrifying and-.

  
Oh.

The buzzing stops as he looks up. Turns mellow as the sun sinking behind the dark, dark sea. Soft, even, if he dare say so. The way that freshly washed sheets feel, or biting into a strawberry cream sandwich, or yes, fucking caramel.

And it’s terrifying.

It isn’t what he was expecting. What he was expecting was rounded around the edges, prim and proper, non-threatening in every way, someone to settle down with, so his mother could finally get the grandchildren she has been wishing for since Johnny became legal and praying for every day since. Someone respectable, a girl to accompany him to his father’s company dinners, to stand by his side and look pretty.

What he gets is Ten.

That’s what his name patch reads. He is standing behind the cash register, his eyes cast downwards. Ten is sharp, sharp, sharp. He wears all black, a single earring in his left ear. He has no tattoos as far as the eye can see, yet Johnny can imagine them peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt.

  
He is small. Well, much smaller than Johnny. But that doesn’t stop Johnny from thinking he’s combative, his jaw sticks out like he wants to confront him.

Ten is gorgeous, Ten is a he. Ten is his soulmate.

When he looks up from the register he looks straight into Johnny’s eyes. He isn’t sure if he had already seen him or he had just known. Had felt that sticky feeling wash over him just now as much as Johnny had. He approaches at a steadfast pace, Johnny looks as he pulls the sleeve of his shirt down over his knuckles, lets them slide protected under black fabric.

Love is an illusion, love is an illusion, love is an illusion, and so are croissants.

He stops right in front of his table and lets one of his feet slide out in front of him, the menu that he is holding in his hands has never been clutches so tightly.  
“We need to talk.”  
-  
There is sand in Johnny’s shoes, but Ten doesn’t seem to care much as he all but marches towards the sea. With every step he takes the beach spits up sand.

When he reaches the bank of razor clams Ten steps around them with care, tries not to crush any of them.

Something clicks.  
Ten doesn’t stop walking until he’s in front of the waves and the froth of foam covers his sneakers. Johnny follows in silence.

“You aren’t supposed to be here yet.”

Those are the first words Ten has spoken to Johnny since they left ‘La Vie’. His elegant hands are curled into fists on his side.  
“I needed more time still. You aren’t supposed to be here yet.”

It isn’t venom that Johnny tastes in his voice, the other man isn’t angry, he just seems scared. Johnny looks at his back, the sun is high in the sky, not like yesterday evening.  
It comes out in no more than a whisper which the wind carries Ten’s way, “I can leave.”  
Ten sighs so loudly that Johnny hears it, pulls his hand out of his sleeve and its fist and moves it towards the bridge of his nose, where Johnny is sure he pinches.

“What?!” Johnny yells. Why is he sighing? What does he want from him?

“Don’t.”

It’s quiet, not like what Johnny thought it would be. He takes three steps exactly (3) until he is standing parallel to Ten. Sees what he sees. The sun. And the seagulls. And the sea is blue.

“Don’t what?” “Don’t leave you tall idiot!”

Something escapes Johnny’s lips. It comes out in the form of a giggle, rolls across his lips like the waves roll over the sea. Frees itself from just behind his ribs, releases some pressure on his lungs. He tastes it now.

(Something about chocolate mousse, french toast with strawberries, croissants, cream sandwiches, something about Love he guesses. Playing around on his taste buds, in the back of his throat and burning his palate.)

“My name is Johnny.” He croaks through the lump of love in his throat.  
“Don’t leave, Johnny.”

  
From his side he feels sweater paw, feels it on his side, nudging him, knocking on the door and asking him to let him in. He opens his hand and grabs Ten’s. The rings around their respective fingers glow. They feel warm like they are sitting in front of a campfire, but this comes from much deeper within. Their hearts stop for a second, a single wave crashes into the shore, then they continue in the same rhythm, like it had always been that way.  
-  
The sea might not be turquoise, but it is blue for sure. He has simply never looked at her in the light.  
When he turns around to return to town, to café ‘La Vie’ with Ten on his arm and the ghost of a laugh blowing across his neck, he avoids the razor clam shells as best as he can.  
It’s the least he can do to thank her.


End file.
